Playing Dirty
by Sofa King Danny
Summary: When Damien discovers that the object of his affection already has a boyfriend, he comes up with a devious plan to get what he wants. But will it work, or will playing dirty have consequences he can't handle? [FINISHED]
1. Pictures

**Author Ramble Thing. **I... really don't know what this is. There were about ten versions of this... then I wrote the beginning to this version at 5 in the morning while jetlagged, and liked it better than any other incarnation of this fic and decided to finish it up.

**Disclaimer. **If I owned South Park I wouldn't be writing this. So no. I don't own these characters. But I did write the lyrics to It's You.

**Update.** The lyrics to It's You are now written in the proper lyric/poem format.

* * *

First Installment  
"Pictures"

He was the son of the Devil. He was on earth for a day. He made friends. He spent a lot of time with Pip. Then the others started to like him too. He came back years later, in High School. He came to see someone special to him. Pip wasn't the one he came to see, but the British boy was still his best friend.

Three of the other kids were in a band called Almost Everything. The redhead was the lead singer. He also wrote all the songs. The raven-haired boy had the backing vocals and guitar, and the blonde one did the drums. They had a fall concert coming up.

He was jealous. He wanted the redhead. But no, Almost Everything's lead singer already had somebody. Somebody way better. Somebody so perfect, attractive and amazing, that he could probably get a straight guy to date him if he wanted to. Stanley Marsh. The most popular guy in school, the quarterback of the school football team, and the backing vocalist and guitarist of Almost Everything. That was who the redhead had. Who in their right mind would give that up for the antichrist?

They were happy. They had been best friends for a long time, and one day Stan confessed his love. The redhead accepted almost immediately. They didn't even have to work at it. Then they and the blonde boy put the band together, and it got popular almost right away. Well, of course. Stan was in it. Why was everything so easy for them? How could it all work out so _well?_

_

* * *

_He was angry. He bought tickets to the concert. One for him and one for Pip. He grinned as he pocketed them.

"Are you sure about this, Damien?"

"Oh, I'm sure."

"Everyone is going to be awfully sore at you if they find out."

"Don't worry. They won't."

Damien had a plan. He knew how to make the redhead his. Even if it didn't work, it would still make Stan pay.

* * *

He went to see the fat kid. The fat kid was an expert at manipulation, blackmail, and evil in general. He was practically an antichrist himself. Sometimes Damien wondered if they were brothers or something. 

"Eh, hello?" the fat boy answered the door.

"Excuse me, Eric Cartman? I understand you are the master of manipulation and deceit. I need to speak with you."

Cartman's eyes lit up. Someone wanted his help, and that meant he might be able to get some money out of it. "Oh ho, you are in need of my services? Step right this way, sir..."

* * *

He went to the concert. He wanted to wait awhile before he did anything, because the redhead had a nice voice and he wanted to hear the band. The redhead grabbed the mike. 

"Hello South Park! It's so great to be here tonight. You know, my life has always been pretty fucked up, but... I love it here, and I love Stan, and I love singing for you. I wouldn't trade this for anything."

Damien choked back tears. The antichrist isn't supposed to cry. But hearing those words hurt him too much. The redhead wouldn't trade Stan for _anything..._ least of all the son of Satan.

"This is a song I wrote about me and Stan, called... It's You." The blonde started drumming, Stan started strumming, and the redhead started humming.

"Long long time ago  
I was eight years old  
there was still a lot I had to learn that I didn't know.  
My life it wasn't perfect but it only goes to show,  
when you overcome the obstacles you grow.  
Now it's nine years later I don't have a lot to say,  
I didn't do a lot between those days.  
While I wasn't famous and I didn't make the news,  
I felt like someone special, someone special's in my life

It's you.

I'm just another teenage boy,  
with a little bit of money and a shiny transportation toy,  
and yeah I've got those hormones,  
the weird ones that sorta make you moan.  
After years of searching and looking for myself,  
and deteriorating my own health  
while searching for the person with whom I'm meant to be... I found that person was right next to me

It's you."

Damien felt tears welling up in his eyes as the song continued. The redhead could be singing about _him._ _He_ could be the special person in the singer's life. The thing that ran through his hand as the band continued to play was, _It's you... why can't it be ME?_ He wiped the tears from his eyes. He couldn't afford to break down now. He still had something to show Stan.

* * *

He managed to make it through the concert without breaking down in tears, and when it was over, he headed to the back of the stage where he saw the band packing up. He made sure he didn't look like he had been crying and put on a face that he hoped looked concerned. 

"Stan, I need to talk to you. It's about..." His voice lowered to a whisper and he nodded in the direction of the redhead. "Your boyfriend."

Stan looked alarmed. "Kyle? What about Kyle?"

"Come over here for a second..." He pulled the other boy over to the side. "I think you should break it off with Kyle."

"What! Why?"

He reached into his pocket, looking around to make sure Kyle wasn't around, and pulled out what appeared to be a stack of pictures. Discreetly, he passed them over to Stan. Stan's eyes bulged out of his head as he looked at the images.

"Are these for real...? No, they can't be! Kyle would never do anything like this!"

Damien nodded. "It's true, Stan. I was shocked, too..."

"Where did you get these?"

He shrugged. "Around." Of course, he had gotten them from Cartman, but he figured Stan would doubt the validity of them he knew that.

Stan stared at the pictures some more. After a few minutes, his shock turned to anger.

"I can't believe this... the little WHORE!" Stan dropped the photos and stormed away. Damien grinned and bent down to pick up his edited pictures.  
-  
Stan grabbed Kyle by the collar and shook him violently.

"YOU! I can't believe I _trusted you!_" he screamed.

"Wh- Stan, what did I do?"

"Don't give me that shit! You know perfectly well what you did you little ass-sucker!"

"No, I really don't! What's gotten into you, dude?"

"What's gotten into me! More like _who's_ gotten into _you!_"

Kyle's mouth dropped as he began to understand what he was being accused of.

"Stan... why would I cheat on you? You're my whole world! Can't you tell -"

Stan cut him off. "I'm your world, am I? That's not what the _pictures _say!" He shook his hand angrily. Clutched in his fist was one of the edited photos Damien had given him. It was the only one he hadn't dropped. Kyle looked at the picture in enormous shock. He had barely even associated with Tweek. Yet here was a picture of him _in bed _with the jumpy blonde boy…!

"Stan, there's been a mistake -"

"The only mistake there's been is me being your boyfriend! We're through!"

"But -"

"But nothing!" Tears dropped from Stan's eyes. "You can't just go around fucking another guy and expect your boyfriend to forgive you for making a 'mistake,' Kyle!"

"Stan, you don't understand, I didn't-"

"_Shut up Kyle!_ We're THROUGH!"

Stan was Kyle's whole world. And now, his whole world came crashing down. All because of a picture. They say a picture is worth a thousand words, but in this case, it meant only two: losing Stan.

Kyle didn't feel like going home. He stayed behind, just staring at the sky, thinking. How did this happen? Who gave Stan that picture? Kyle knew it had been edited. He would never cheat on Stan. Who would do something like this? He heard footsteps, and then a voice.

"Kyle... what happened? What did he do to you?" He sat up. Damien was standing over him, looking worried. He must have been watching from afar, but not close enough to hear, Kyle guessed.

"He... broke it off with me." He was having trouble breathing and talking. It had hit too hard, too fast. His head was spinning and he couldn't think clearly. He didn't feel so much like his heart had been broken as he felt like he had been hit with a truck. The shock wasn't over, it all hadn't fully sunken in yet. He was Numb.

"What...? Why?"

"He thought I cheated on him... with... Tweek. He had some... picture. Don't know where he got it, it was fake. I would never... do something like that." A pause, then, "...You believe me... right?"

Damien nodded. "I know you wouldn't cheat on your boyfriend, Kyle. You're a good kid. A really good kid. I like you a lot."

Kyle smiled weakly. "I... like you too."

"No you don't. Nobody likes me. Not even Pip; he's just desperate for friends."

Kyle gave a sad laugh and stood up. "I mean it. I think you're pretty cool."

"…I'm sorry about Stan."

Kyle sighed. "Why... why didn't he believe me?"

Damien edged closer to the redhead. "People believe pictures."

Kyle was far too upset to notice the other boy moving. "A picture's worth..."

Before he knew it, he found the antichrist's hand around him, but still didn't seem to acknowledge it. "...'A thousand words,'" Damien finished for him, and Kyle nodded sadly.

"Come on Kyle, let's go to my house..." Kyle nodded and followed him. Damien continued to appear worried, but inside he was thinking _Score!_ He was getting a little worried that he might end up accomplishing nothing more than hurting Kyle, but then he remembered that Kyle had hurt _him,_ even if not intentionally. He had spent years agonizing over Kyle after he first learned that Stan already had him. He even tried to kill himself, only to realize he was immortal, being the son of Satan and all. Remembering that, he quit worrying. It wasn't that he wanted to hurt Kyle; it was just that if he did hurt the Jewish boy, he could validate it to himself.

They walked home as it began to rain, Damien with his arm around Kyle's waist, all sorts of thoughts in his head, and bliss in his heart. He didn't care if he what he was doing was wrong; he was the son of the Devil.


	2. Blur the Lines

**Author Ramble thing.** I would like to inform you all of another fanfiction website called fosff dot net, which has less restrictions. You can write in script format there and they allow NC-17 rated fics. You can also find a lot of great authors there that aren't here anymore, including some genres that are less common here (straight romance for example). It is not as well-known but we hope to change that. I encourage you to check it out and visit that website and this one. We can all gain a lot from this including more reviews.

**Disclaimer. **I do not own the characters I just like to play around with them.

* * *

Second Installment  
"Blur the Lines" 

His doorbell rang.

"Gah!" he yelled, twitched, and clumsily dove under the coach. "Jesus Christ! Who's there? Is it the mafia! Oh Jesus it's the mafia isn't it! HIDE ME!"

The bell rang again. "GAH! Go away!"

"Calm down, Tweek, answer the door!" his father called down from upstairs.

"N-no way!" he refused, twitching more violently. "I'm not answering the door! It's too much pressure!"

It rang again, three consecutive times. Whoever was ringing was getting impatient. Tweek panicked and leapt out from his hiding place. "I'm c-coming! Don't hurt me!"

Frantically, he got up and opened the door, to see a very angry Stan facing him, the light rain falling on his face and mingling with his tears.

"Gah! Don't shoot!" _Twitch, twitch._ "O-oh, it's just you."

Twitch. "Hi, Stan."

"Don't you _Hi, Stan_ me, you little whore!" Stan yelled angrily, spit flying from his mouth as he gripped Tweek's collar tightly, lifting the blonde boy slightly off the ground.

"AH! Wh- What'd I do!"

"KYLE'S what you did!" Stan screamed.

"But Stan- GAH! That's not a verb!" _Twitch._ "…OH! Jesus Christ! You mean you think I…!"

Stan shook the blonde boy violently. "Wait, Stan! GAH!"  
_Twitch._ "I didn't do anything to Kyle, I swear!"

Stan raised his free hand menacingly and curled it into a fist. "Why should I believe you?" he growled. His eyes were filled with fire, glaring daggers at Tweek. "Do you know how it feels to have someone betray you? To have them tell you for a year, over and over that they love you, and show it to you too; and then to see them showing the same thing to someone else? It hurts, Tweek, it fucking hurts. So now… I'm going to _kick your ass._"

"GAH!" Tweek screamed. He was always paranoid, but he was especially afraid of Stan. He had heard a lot of things about Stan; that he was a badass, did drugs, stole things, hurt people; there was even a rumor that Stan had killed somebody once. Tweek didn't know if any of it was true, but he didn't doubt Stan was dangerous.

Why couldn't it have just been the mafia?  
-  
He sat on the couch of Damien's house, shaking and sobbing. The full force of the day's events were starting to sink in, and he didn't think he could handle it.

"Here you go." Damien's voice drifted into the room. He looked up to see the antichrist standing above him offering a cup of something that looked like either coffee or hot cocoa; he couldn't tell, and considering who was giving it to him, it could have been something else entirely.

"…I'm really sorry about what happened," Damien lied, looking and sounding quite sincere. He was a good actor, almost as good as Cartman. He sat down next to the redhead, eyeing him carefully. God how he wanted to touch him… but he didn't want to seem too eager, otherwise it wouldn't seem like he truly was trying to help Kyle through the breakup.

Kyle nodded. He was afraid that if he tried to speak, he would start crying too hard, but he decided to risk it. "H-how could this happen? Why would anyone d-do this to me?"

"If Stan trusts a picture more than he trusts you, I don't think he deserves you…" Damien suggested, hoping he wasn't pushing it too much.

Kyle shuddered and took a sip of the drink he held. It was in fact hot cocoa, though it had a strange taste to it. Perhaps Damien had added another ingredient. "…N-no, I think he was just too overwhelmed to think clearly and he's pissed off… yeah that's it… if I give him a couple days, he'll calm down enough to listen to reason.

"Well… you could give it a try…." Damien agreed reluctantly, his confidence faltering as he realized Kyle might be right.

"What's in this…?" the red-haired boy asked, looking into his cup curiously.

"Cinnamon," Damien answered.

"….It's good."

Damien smiled a little.  
-  
"Get your hands off of him!" a voice called. Stan turned to see who the voice belonged to. It was a boy wearing a blue outfit and aviator cap; Craig, who was of course flipping him off though Stan didn't bother to acknowledge it.

"So I should just let him get away with sleeping with my boyfriend, then?" Stan asked angrily as Craig continued to walk toward Tweek.

"What are you talking about? Tweek wouldn't cheat on me."

Stan let go of Tweek's collar as the blonde boy continued to scream cries of Oh Jesus and too much pressure. "Wait… you mean you two are…?"

"Yep," Craig replied, as he locked arms with Tweek and flipped Stan off again with his free hand. It seemed to be sort a of a habit for him.

"OH Jesus!" Tweek yelled. Craig elbowed him sharply. "OW! I mean yes, yes we are. And it's a lot of pressure!"

"You say that about everything," Craig laughed. "But I guess that's one of the things I love most about you."

"But the picture-" Stan protested.

Craig laughed again. "Honestly, Stan… who believes pictures? Come on, Tweek." He led Tweek back into the Tweak household, trying to nibble his ear as Tweek fidgeted, looking afraid but excited, and it was a bit hard to tell whether Tweek was enjoying being a relationship with the rude-mannered boy or not.

Stan just stood in the rain staring, too consumed by thought to move. He had no doubt that Tweek wouldn't cheat on anybody; it would be too risky, too much pressure. It seemed that he could barely deal with a relationship to began with. So if Tweek and Craig were going out, the picture couldn't be real.

He was beginning to become confused now. To Stan, pictures had always been real, ever since he was a little kid watching Terrance & Phillip up until this day when he had seen the picture Damien gave him. Stan thought pictures were real, he thought photos were proof. But now Craig's words echoed in his head as he questioned something about the world he had never questioned before.

_Honestly… who believes pictures?_  
-  
Damien carefully placed his arm on the redhead's back and stroked him gently as he continued to sip the cinnamon cocoa. Kyle closed his eyes and tried to relax.

"Mm. That f-feels pretty good…"

Damien smiled. He was apparently succeeding at comforting the Jewish boy. "I'm really sorry…" he repeated.

"That's okay," Kyle replied, starting to smile a little as Damien's petting was helping him to calm down. "It's not your fault."

For the first time in his life, Damien felt a little pang of guilt.  
-  
Stan had a seen a lot of pictures in his life. He thought about the pictures he had seen in history class; of wars, of the Holocaust, of people dying and starving and suffering. Were _those_ real? He always thought he knew they were… but if he couldn't even see truth in Kyle's eyes how could he see truth in a picture? He lifted the picture of Tweek and Kyle and looked at it again. It was beginning to get soggy, and the rain was distorting it; blurring the picture just as Craig's words had blurred the truth.

"It's a picture… it's not really there…" He lifted his other hand and touched the place on the photo that looked like Kyle's face, the color smeared. But it wasn't his face, it was only a picture…

"But it seems real to me…" His eyes fell on the picture of Kyle's lips. His heart saddened as he began to regret leaving the red-haired boy. He wished he could go apologize; he still loved Kyle with all his heart, and maybe that was why he had chosen to blame Tweek; but he didn't know where Kyle was… and how could he expect Kyle to just take him back after what he did? Could he honestly say he deserved Kyle after treating him that way, after trusting a picture over the word of his own boyfriend, who was also his best friend, whom he'd trusted all his life?

"I miss you already, baby…" he whispered to the picture that was slowly becoming more and more ruined by the rain as he moved it slowly closer to his face. "I just don't know what to believe anymore…"  
-  
Hours later, Craig emerged from Tweek's house with a smug grin plastered on his face that he couldn't remove if he tried. Tweek stayed behind, waving good-bye to Craig, still jumpy but considerably satisfied. It was still raining, and much harder than before.

"H-hey… let's do this-" _twitch-_ "again sometime, okay Craig? I think I can handle the pressure." He winked as Craig replied that he'd love to come over again. When they had finished saying their good-byes, Tweek closed the door in a relatively calm manner by his standards.

"Hey… what's this?" Craig wondered aloud, bending down to get a closer look at something soggy on the ground. He picked it up to see that it was a torn photograph, ruined by the rain, the colors distorted, faded, and blurred.

"Is this… Tweek?" It was torn on one side as if it had been at picture of Tweek and someone else and had been torn in half and Tweek's half had been left on the ground in the rain.

"Stan must have left it here…"


	3. Anything for You

Update: Re-uploaded to correct glaring typos.

* * *

Third Installment  
"Anything for You"

It was late at night and the rain was pounding, a torrent, a waterfall nurturing the life that slept on the ground. A faint rumble of thunder accompanied the torrent every few minutes. Kyle was asleep on Damien's couch, clutching an empty cup with a few grounds of cocoa powder still stuck to the bottom, his arm dangling lazily just above the ground. Damien stared at his face. The sparkling emerald eyes, the perfectly shaped nose, the adorable freckles, the way his matted hair spilled out from under his hat onto his forehead in a mess of sexy red curls. He stared at his body, the orange jacket and dark green pants that were wet from the rain they had walked to Damien's house in, the soft, smooth skin that just begged to be touched. His heart fluttered at the sound of Kyle's deep breaths and soft snores, and the steady rise and fall of his chest as he slept peacefully. You would never guess that he had been crying his eyes out a few minutes earlier before the lullaby of the rain finally soothed him into rest.

He couldn't take the sexual frustration anymoreKyle was cute when he slept; way, way too cute. He knelt down in front of the Jewish boy and pressed his hand gently to Kyle's back. There was no blanket covering it; Damien's house was always warm enough, and Kyle hadn't bothered to take off his coat anyway. His eyes focused on the soft lips that quietly opened and closed, breathing out soft whispers as he drowned in the bliss of unconsciousness. Damien wondered what he was dreaming about. Stan, probably.

"Kyle… I mean it… I like you a lot…" Damien repeated quietly as he leaned closer to the face he had been staring at ever since the other boy had closed his eyes. Carefully and softly, he pressed his lips to Kyle's like he had longed to do for so many years. His lips were soft and warm, sprinkled with the taste of cinnamon cocoa and just the slightest touch of rain. The rain outside fell harder and a flash of lightning illuminated the house as Kyle's eyes snapped open.

_Oh…FUCK._

Kyle pushed Damien away with all the force he could muster in his tired state, causing Damien to fall hard on his bottom with a _thud_ that couldn't be heard well over the storm outside, before leaping to his feet and dashing out the door as fast as he could run without another thought. Damien just stood back and watched the only person he had ever loved disappear into the night. As he watched, only one thought ran through his mind.

_Kyle has a sweet ass._

_

* * *

_Stan sat on a bench near a lake in the woods and gazed sadly at his reflection. Every few minutes, he would pick up a stone, and throw it into the water, breaking the reflection and wishing it would stay broken. He _hated_ the person in the reflection. He wanted the person in the reflection to _die._ He wanted the person in the reflection to go away never hurt Kyle again.

"I don't deserve him…" he mumbled as he threw another stone, this one landing squarely on the reflection's heart.

"An eye for an eye, a heart for a heart. That's for what you did to _Kyle's _heart," he scolded himself. He laughed sadly as he picked up another rock. "God, I sound like such a fag."

He studied his reflection more carefully. He thought about all that he and Kyle had shared, and how many times Kyle had told him, _You have the most beautiful blue eyes…_

He looked at the eyes of his reflection. There were no tears in them. He didn't have those warm, soft eyes that you always read about in romance novels. He had cold, hard eyes. They didn't look beautiful to him. They looked dead, and there were no tears in them.

Maybe that was a side effect that comes with seeing people die.

"Stan?"

He snapped out of his thoughts and lifted his head to locate the source of the sound, with a faint hope that it was Kyle. But no, Kyle's voice wasn't that deep…

"What are you doing here?"

His heart sank as he realized that the owner of the voice was not Kyle, but Cartman. The heavier boy sat down beside him and moved his hand back and forth on the bench nervously.

"Well? Stan? Are you going to answer my question or not? What are you doing here?"

Stan turned to look at his obese friend. "I fucked up, dude…I'm such an idiot. I lost Kyle, and it's all my fault… and now I'm sitting here crying over it like a fag. I suck…"

Cartman examined his face closely. "You aren't crying."

Stan shook a little and nearly choked as he replied. "That's not because I'm strong or anything, though. It's just because I'm… evil."

The other boy cocked his head curiously. "Evil? What makes you think you're evil?"

Stan shook his head, shaking more violently. He expected tears to well up, but they didn't come, which only made his heart hurt more. "Cartman… do you know… wh-what I did to Kyle?"

Cartman looked down sadly… and then smirked. "You broke up, right?" Stan nodded. "What's that in your hand?" Stan opened his left palm and stared at it. Half of the picture Damien had given him was in the center of it. It was the half that had Kyle on it. Cartman snickered in recognition.

Stan shot him a dirty look. "It's not funny, fatass."

Cartman snickered again. "Yeah it is. I gave Damien those pictures, dude."

Stan's shot a fiery glare at the brown-haired boy. "You…! You fat asshole!" he screamed as he clamped his hands around Cartman's neck and closed them tight, choking him. "What the fuck did you do that for you! GOD DAMN FATASS…!"

Cartman barely managed to pry Stan's hands off his throat long enough to reply. "Fuck, calm down, Smokes."

Stan's jaw dropped. "How did you know…?"

"I know everything, Smokes. Like… that you used to smoke, for example."

Stan glared and pushed Cartman, trying to knock him off the bench. It must have been a coincidence that he called him "Smokes," he didn't _really_ know that had been Stan's nickname when he was in a gang, and knowing that he used to smoke was most likely a guess."Yeah, right. You don't know anything, fatass."

"I know that you killed-"

Stan shot Cartman an even angrier look and began strangling him again. "SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP."

Cartman wrenched Stan's hands off of his neck again. "Jesus! Chill, flower boy!"

"How am I supposed to 'chill' when you talk about things like _that?_"

"Hey, if it were me, I'd be proud."

"I'm not _proud_ of – of-" He buried his head in his hands. "Fuck, just – Cartman, can I ask you a favor?"

"Sure, dude, that's what friends are for."

Stan laughed at his use of the word _friends._ "Cartman… how deep is this lake?"

"…Pretty fucking deep, dude. I lost a car down there."

Stan didn't worry about why Cartman was driving a car in the middle of the woods. He knew better than to ask by now. "Cartman… I want you to push me…" He choked. "And don't let me get back up."

Cartman smiled at his brunette friend. "Anything for you, Smokes."


	4. Underwater

**Way Too Long Author Ramble Thing (Pay Attention, this will be on the test) **...I think this fic is the most challenging thing I have ever, ever written. It is also incredibly fun and simply a blast to write. I would like to thank **each and every single one of my readers,** and extra thanks to **the reviewers. **I love all of you. So so much.

A note for those who haven't seen the "Damien" episode or have forgotten: _Rectus Dominus_ is what Damien said whenever he was going to levitate someone or light something on fire or whatever. I guess it activates his Satanic powers? For bonus points, it's Latin for _ass master. _

La de da, I seem to have trouble with ending chapters. That's the main part I get stuck on whenever there's a delay in updating (aka always).

Also, I know I have been pretty bad about reviewing others' fics lately. Very sorry! I am having some school troubles that will pass shortly, so that's why...

Also I changed my divider! Instead of the bar, it's dots now (except to seperate the A/N and fic)

**Disclaimer. **Don't own the characters, all I own is the story below, blahdy blahdy blah.

* * *

Fourth Installment  
"Underwater" 

Twigs and dead leaves cracked under his feet and thoughts swirled in his head as he ran, eyes shut tightly, covered in a sheet of falling rain, thunder roaring around him. _What just happened? What the hell was Damien trying to do? Would he have… God, would have _raped_ me if I didn't wake up?_

…_And where's Stan?_

He felt his forehead collide with a solid object. Opening his eyes, he realized he was in the middle of the forest, and had just run into a tree.

"Ow…" he muttered, rubbing his head. He looked around, searching for Stan. God, he needed Stan back… he caught sight of two shapes sitting on a bench far off to his left. One was a skinny silhouette, shoulders hunched, the other a wider figure sitting up straight, it's arm around the skinny one.

"Stan…? Stan, is that you?" he queried, making his way towards the bench. As he got closer, he began to hear faint voices.

…_Can I ask you a favor?_

"STAN! Stan, are you there?"

_Sure, dude…_

"Stan, it's me, Kyle! I… I miss you!"

…_that's what friends are for._

"Stan, please! I need you back!"

…_How deep is this lake? _

"Stan! Please… I…"

_Pretty fucking deep, dude…_

"I… I love…"

_Cartman… I want you to push me…_

"I LOVE YOU…."

_Anything for you, Smokes…_

Kyle burst through the foliage, his face strained and stained with tears, screaming at the top of his lungs as Cartman applied pressure to the brunette's back.

"I LOVE YOU, STAN…!"

Stan, leaning in towards the lake, lifted his head to see the redhead's panicked expression. As if in slow motion, Stan's eyes widened and he reached a hand out to the boy he still loved. But it was too late to stop his body from falling, and he choked out his final words. "Kyle… I'm sorry…"

Time regained its normal speed, and Kyle wasted no time diving in after him. The cold water stung his eyes, and mud swirled around him. Panicking, he glanced around looking for his love. He reached a hand out towards a faint falling shape, and waited for the shape to grab his hand back.

_Why isn't he swimming back up?_

Cartman sat on the bench for a few more minutes, staring into the water. It was too murky to see the two boys swimming together beneath it. He turned his attention to the sky.

_Kracka-BOOM_

Lightning struck nearby. He could see the bolt, and felt the ground warm up. He glanced at the lake again. He smirked, wondering what would happen to his friends if lightning struck the lake.

Kyle felt fingers slip through his. He grabbed again, trying to get a firm grip. His lungs were on fire.

_I can't keep holding my breath for much longer…_

His fingers intertwined with another set, and he pulled the body closer to him. Stan's blue eyes stared back into his green ones. Bodies locked in an embrace under the lake, mud and fish swirling around them, a storm raging outside; it was strangely romantic.

The two surfaced in an explosion of cold water, hair wet and hanging to their shoulders, shivering. Kyle smiled, and hugged Stan tighter.

"Thank God you're alive…"  
Stan didn't smile back, just looked sadly down. "I'm sorry… I should have known they were fake… you didn't sleep with Tweek… I-I should have believed you…"

Kyle wiped away something from Stan's cheek, and it was difficult to tell if it was the result of tears, rain, lake water, or a mixture of the three. "…It's okay. I love you anyway."

He leaned forward and kissed the brunette, working his tongue carefully and savoring the taste of his love's lips, and all the recent horrible experiences no longer mattered. Cartman dry heaved.

…

He yawned, and stepped out of Damien's house to meet his friend. "I do say, the sky is certainly being rather rude what with all the thundering and waking me up, eh ol' chap?"

"Yeah," Damien growled, remembering how the lightning had betrayed him earlier. "Fucking sky." He paused, thinking. "Listen Pip, I have to find Kyle. Either go back to bed, or come with me."

"Right-o. I certainly don't hope to get any shuteye in this weather, so with you I shall go!"

Damien nodded, and started forward. "He probably just ran straight ahead… so he'd be in those woods over there."

"Are you quite sure, Damien? I rather think he'd go back to his own home."

"Then you check his house. I'll check the woods." He started forward for the forest immediately, not waiting for the British boy's response.

"Right-o." He dashed off in the direction of the only home in town with a Star of David in the window.

…

Stan broke the kiss and stared guiltily into the pond below. "Kyle… I… I don't know how to say this…"

Kyle planted another quick kiss on his lover's cheek before responding, "What is it, dude?"

"Kyle… I ki-" he choked out a sob, unable to finish the sentence.

"He killed Rebecca Cotswold," Cartman finished for him in a bored tone.

Kyle's jaw dropped. "Rebecca…? My first girlfriend?"

Stan nodded. "God, Kyle… I'm so fucking sorry…"

Kyle joined his partner in looking down. "So… is that why you wanted to drown yourself?" Stan nodded, choking back tears. Kyle touched his lover's cheek gently. "Why…?"

Stan opened his mouth to answer, but all that come out was another fit of sobs.

Cartman stood up as if he intended to leave, but instead, answered the redhead's question. "It was his initiation to some pussy gang when he was younger. Now you two fags better get your asses back to bed before the storm kills you. Fucktards."

Kyle began moving towards the shore, then paused. "Wait, why does fatass know all this and I don't?" Stan shook his head, trying to indicate the best he could that _I have no idea _without actually opening his mouth and bursting into tears again.

Cartman sighed. "Because you never actually tried to learn anything about your boyfriend, ass master. And on that note, I take my leave."

At that moment, yet another person decided to burst through the foliage and scream something. However, the newcomer's scream was not one of "I love you" but rather, an unidentifiable shriek that didn't seem to belong to the English language at all.

Kyle's journey to shore was once again interrupted as he turned to determine the source of the scream, and his eyes widened in shock when he discovered that it was Damien.

"Shit! Stan, hide me!" He dove under the water in a desperate attempt to camouflage himself from the antichrist, afraid that something more than the previous kiss incident would happen, or that Damien would kill him for running away.

At that moment, Damien's cold black eyes landed on the boy that was still visible above the water, who had a somewhat confused expression on his face. His rage grew tenfold at the sight of Stan, the perfect little jock, the one who had stolen his precious Kyle away from him. "You…! You, that _perfect_ little assfucker!" He spat the word "perfect" as if he was struggling to get it out of his throat, indicating it was the Bad Kind of perfect.

"Oh Jesus, how many times do I have to explain this before I can _leave?_" Cartman groaned. "Queen Fag here is in no way perfect, we were just talking about how he used to be in this shitty gang and killed some chick. Also, he's way too gay."

Damien's expression faltered slightly at this information, before returning to his hard glare. "He's perfect enough for _Kyle…_"

"That's IT! Screw you fags, I'm going home!" Cartman spat, quite fed up with all the gayness that was occurring. He then ran off before anything else could distract him from his goal of getting to bed.

Damien advanced toward the pond, raising a hand menacingly in Stan's direction with fire in his eyes. "_Rectus… Dominus…" _


	5. Cinnamon

Thanks to **Oyaji** for this correction: "One thing before I start reading, just so you know, in case you didn't, Rectus Dominus is nothing serious. In fact, it's simply a bad mock up of the original damien theme, and is simply 'Rectal Domination' which can be read as 'Ass Master.' Just thought I'd let you know that. :)" I blame everyone but myself for the misconception.

Yeah, I went back to the regualar spacer. Actually, I had a different one, but QuickEdit ATE IT.

**Disclaimer: **I think you know this by now.

* * *

Fifth Installment  
"Cinnamon" 

"Stop, you idiot." Despite being soaked in lake water that he had nearly drowned in minutes earlier, and being threatened by the chanting of the son of the Devil, his tone was calm, confident and powerful. Kyle's heart swelled at the sound of the voice he thought he was never going to hear again.

He stopped chanting and paused, narrowing his eyes at the raven-haired source of the command. "Why should I?"

Stan sighed. "Because if you kill me, Kyle will just hate you! Why are you too stupid to see that?"

He put his hand down at his side, angry that Stan was proving to be so worthy of Kyle once again, this time with his damned _intelligence. _But killing him wouldn't make Kyle fall in love with the antichrist any more than giving him cinnamon cocoa did. "…Fine."

He sat, granting Kyle and Stan the time they needed to swim to shore without interruption. They stood staring into each other's eyes in silence for a minute, before the redhead grabbed his partner and started to lead him home. "Come on. Let's sleep. We can worry about… Rebecca in the morning, okay?"

Stan nodded, still close to tears, and followed. A whispered threat chased them out of the woods all the way home.

"This isn't over, my love."

* * *

A gasp and a younger, higher voice pierced the silence in his bedroom. "You have to ask Mom if you can have guests over, gaybot!" 

He blinked, greeted by the morning light spilling through his window and Ike standing in the doorway accusing him, and only pulled his arms around his partner tighter. "Hey, Stan was horny, okay?"

"EW!" Ike cried out, and ran down the hallway. "MOM!"

Stan pulled away from the redhead and sat up. "Nice."

Kyle's laughed, and he ruffled the other boy's hair playfully. "C'mon, let's get some breakfast."

The two trudged tiredly down the stairs into the kitchen to find his mother eating a balanced breakfast of toast. She was about to object to Stan's presence, but Kyle quickly stopped her. "Don't ask; it's complicated. I'll explain later."

Mrs. Broflovski nodded, understanding. She had become a bit less overprotective over the years. She still kept a close eye on Ike, though, but that was only because the Canadian was more prone to accident than Kyle.

The redhead reached for a bowl of "Cinnamon Cavity-Os," a sugary breakfast cereal that he still enjoyed even in his high school years, and poured himself and Stan a bowl. The brunette immediately began chomping away on the unhealthy sugar flakes, but Kyle didn't touch his food for awhile. Instead, he just watched Stan eat.

There was certainly something majestic about the way Stan ate. Kyle snickered happily at how wonderful the brunette looked, his jetblack hair spilling sloppily over his face, his eyes half-open, and his mouth slowly chewing on an oversized mouthful of corn flakes. There was something majestic about _everything_ Stan did, actually. He was like a lion, beautiful, proud, and free. _Thank God he's alive,_ the redhead thought, and took a bit of his cereal.

He thought of Damien's cocoa.

* * *

"I see. So he _was _in the woods." 

He just growled in response to the British boy and kicked the wall of his home with such force that a small dent was left in it, chipping the dark red paint.

"Damien, I do believe you'll hurt your foot…"

His eyes narrowed to slits and he lit the wall on fire with his Satanic powers in his anger and watched the paint melt off. "I don't _give_ a fuck! Why do I have to _love_ him!"

"Well, I do have a bit of experience in the area of love…"

"It isn't fair! What's the fucking point! I'm sure he already hates me!"

"Believe me, I know how it much it can hurt to love someone you can't have…"

"There's no hope! Why do I keep _trying?_"

"…Damien, have you ever considered…"

"I just wish someone else could feel the pain I feel…"

"…that perhaps you are…"

"I just want to fucking kill someone… I should killed him!"

"…looking for love…"

"_I wish Stan was fucking dead…!_"

"…in the wrong place?"

He paused. "Pip, what do you mean?"

Pip looked down pensively, and bit his lip, considering. "Oh, um, its nothing. Please… well, never mind."

* * *

He yawned. "Is it a school day?" 

"…No, it's Saturday. See how it's nine o'clock and we're still in the kitchen in the clothes we wore yesterday?"

"Mm." He took another bite of his Cavity-Os, then paused. "Yesterday…"

Kyle quickly leaned over and kissed him lightly, and in instants, the cinnamon was gone from his lips. The redhead laughed, trying to take the brunette's mind off the events at the lake. "You taste good, baby."

But Stan's thoughts were still focused on the previous night after hearing the mention of "yesterday." He pushed his bowl aside and rose from his seat. "I can't finish this."

"…Stan, get over it."

"Get over it! _Get over it!_ How the fuck can you say that, Kyle? She was your first _girlfriend, _for Christ's sake!"

A sharp warning of "Language!" emerged from the seat where Kyle's previously silent mother inhabited before Stan continued.

"You were in love with her! How can her death mean _nothing_ to you!"

"Stan, I'm in love with _you_…"

"So your first love doesn't even mean anything to you? Even if you don't love her… she's still a human being… and you were close to her, you should _care!_"

"You're a Christian! Aren't you supposed to believe she's in a better place now!"

"Not if she went to Hell!"

"_You have to fucking forgive yourself!_"

"Language!"

"…" Stan sat back down and hesitantly slowly crunching his breakfast.

"Listen… when someone dies… you have to move on, and live a full life… for her."

"…but I can't live like this! I can't live until I know if Rebecca is okay in the afterlife!"

"…" Kyle licked his lips in thought and was hit with the delightful taste of cinnamon, before being hit by a somewhat controversial idea as he thought of the cocoa that had comforted him through his temporary breakup.

"Well, there is… someone who knows."

Stan shoved another spoonful in his mouth and raised an eyebrow at this possibility.


	6. Body Art

This chapter shall clear up the Stan thing, and then we'll get back to Damien.

Living in a town like South Park for so long would make anyone a little crazy...

**Notice:** I just want to inform everyone that I'll be relatively inactive until after **June 8th, **because my teachers are sadists.

* * *

Sixth Installment  
"Body Art" 

A shrill cackle resounded through his house, informing him that someone was at the door.

"Does your doorbell ring have to be so irritating?" Pip asked, clasping his hands to his ears. Damien shrugged, grunting, and moved to answer the door. He flung it open in his frustration, discovering to his surprise that his visitor was none other than Kyle.

Of course, he was with Stan.

"Um… hi, Damien," he mumbled awkwardly.

"What do you want!"

Stan pushed his way in front of the redhead, filling Damien's vision with his face, much to the antichrist's disgust.

"You… live in Hell, right?"

"Of course I live in Hell," he replied stiffly, mentally adding, _and I was just about to go back to I wouldn't have to look at your stupid pretty face anymore... _

"Can you tell me… did Rebecca Cotswold… go to…. Hell?" He nearly choked on the last word.

Damien couldn't care less about Stan, but he saw the desperate pleading look in Kyle's green eyes, and sighed. "…No. She got into Heaven."

Relief washed over Stan's face, and both boys smiled brightly. Kyle stared into his lover's eyes and laughed.

"See? Now can you live your life?"

Stan pecked him on the lips, and Damien thought he was going to puke. "Sure can, baby." He turned back to the antichrist. "Thank you. I feel so much better knowing she's in a better place now."

"Good night," Damien growled, and slammed the door shut. He narrowed his eyes and threw fire at the wall again.

Pip raised an eyebrow. "You told me only Mormons go to Heaven. Was Rebecca a Mormon?"

Damien pulled a cigarette out from his pocket and lit it with his fingers, sliding down the wall in a show of defeat. His answer was barely above a cold, tired whisper drifting from a pale mouth below half-closed eyes.

"Never heard of her..."

* * *

They sat in Stan's room, where they would be free from disturbances. His parents weren't home. Stan absentmindedly played with a loose string on the carpet, much on his mind. 

Kyle coughed, breaking the silence. "So, uh… do you mind talking about this gang thing?"

Stan flopped over onto his back and stared at the ceiling. "It was in middle school, I think."

Kyle glanced at the floor. He remembered middle school. Kyle had been in all advanced classes, Stan in regular classes and a multitude of extracurricular activities. That was when the two had started to think of each other as _more_ than friends. They also began distancing themselves, trying to forget each other, because they were afraid. It wasn't until early high school that Stan finally got the courage to ask Kyle out.

"Kenny was in the hospital. Cartman was too, visiting him. He never left his side; I don't think he even ate. Of course, no one else cared, because we're all used to Kenny dying. So I had no one, without you. I spent a lot of time wandering the streets, getting my hands on anything I could find to give me a buzz."

Kyle's eyes widened. "God, Stan…. I… I had no idea…"

"…I was thinking about you, the whole time. I didn't _want _to; I didn't want to be in love with anyone. I remembered how much Wendy hurt me, and how I thought about killing myself, when she did. How I didn't want anything to do with love, anymore. I was trying so hard… to forget you…"

He coughed slightly, trying to force himself not to cry.

"Some guys found me in a gutter, one day. There were the tough, gangster types; wore trenchcoats, smoked. I told them how alone I felt… told them I had no one. They offered to let me join their gang, to have a home. I figured it would help me forget you, forget my _life…_ so I said sure. They told me I had to steal a pack of cigarettes. I did, and quickly got addicted to _those _along with the other drugs. After that I had to do progressively more major crimes… until finally had to kill someone."

"Just… someone? They didn't specify?"

He nodded, tears beginning to spill over his eyelids. "…Just 'someone.' And I… I chose to k-kill Rebecca C-Cotswold, because I hated her for l-loving you… and I thought I h-hated _you_ for l-loving _her…_" He burst into tears. Kyle carefully placed his arm on his shoulder, desperately wanting to comfort him, but not sure he could comfort _himself. _

"I killed her… oh God, I _k-k-killed _her… they g-gave me a tattoo, and I was in…"

Kyle slid his hand down Stan's arm and gripped his brown jacket. "Where's the tattoo…?" The brunette jerked sharply away, clutching the same sleeve.

"No… _n-no…_" he sobbed. Kyle took his arm and gently slid the sleeve up, revealing the skin below. Carved faintly into the flesh was a crudely drawn heart surrounding the words:

_**I HATE KYLE BROFLOVSKI**_

"That's why I always kept m-my arms covered…" he bawled. "It's faint b-because I tr-tried to scrub it off…"

Light danced in Kyle's shimmering green eyes and he laughed. He just laughed.

Stan wiped his eyes, sniffling. "What's so funny?"

Kyle threw off his shirt and turned away sharply. Stan's jaw dropped as he scanned his lover's back. It was covered in faded scars that spelled out the words:

_**I HATE KYLE BROFLOVSKI**_

Next to it were three sharp cuts that vaguely resembled a heart, with "Stan" scrawled in the middle.

"With a knife," the redhead explained simply.

_He did this… to himself…_

"W-wow…" Stan mumbled. "You used to be quite the emo kid, huh?"

Kyle stifled a giggle, afraid he was acting too much like a girl already.

"That's why I always want to be on top."

There was a great deal more laughter on the part of both inhabitants of the room, and then Kyle sat down, without bothering to put his shirt back on, and interrupted the merriment.

"There's just one thing I don't understand."

"Mm?"

"What about Rebecca's family? Her friends? Do they know? Did they report it?"

"Oh," Stan replied matter-of-factly, "her status right now is 'missing.'" He looked up at the ceiling again with a sigh. "You'd think we'd care more."

"Maybe we really _are _evil."

Kyle leaned back, unsure if he should feel guilty, sad, ashamed, or maybe even proud that his lover had gotten away with it. He resolved to feel a strange mixture of all four.

Then he found himself wondering where the body was.

"…Or maybe just fucking insane."


	7. Forever

Gah! I'm so sorry about how late this is… it's been _months _since the last update, hasn't it? I'm going to try to prevent this sort of problem in the future, by planning my plots out a bit better before I start writing… sorry. I hope this ending is worth the wait… and yes, this _is _the ending… there's no more. D: How sad.

* * *

Final Installment  
"Forever" 

He lay on his back, ignoring the itch of Stan's carpet poking the bare skin of his torso, and stared at the ceiling, thinking about all that had happened.

"So… what now?"

The brunette stared at his partner's chest and bit his lip before answering. "Well… our shirts are already off…"

Kyle laughed. "All this talk about killing is getting you so hot, right?"

Stan blushed, just a little. "No… I didn't mean…"

The redhead sat up and brushed his lover's crotch, still laughing. The cloth of his pants felt smooth and comforting, as if it were erasing all the cinnamon and fear and thoughts of Damien. "No, it's okay. Your parents aren't coming home for awhile, right?"

Stan's answer was to dive on top of the other boy, pin his arms down, and grin wildly.

"Jews are really ticklish, right?"

* * *

They stood outside of Stan's house, staring at the single lit window on the top right where two shadowed figures tackled each other playfully. 

"…Those two are aware that the curtain is open, aren't they?"

The antichrist sighed. "No, probably not."

"Well, how do you plan to get in there, Damien?"

"Oh, you're coming with me, Pip. We're going to blow that door down. It's very simple."

The blonde held his chin in thought. "I do believe it would be more efficient to simply pick the lock. That way we'll make less of a racket and thus have more success in sneaking up on them."

"…Right. I knew that."

"But I still say this is a terrible idea..."

* * *

He paused in the middle of tickling the redhead's chest. The other reached up to take advantage of the pause, but Stan stopped him. "Shh! Wait! Do you hear that?" 

Kyle froze and listened. The sound was muffled through his ear flaps, but he could still distinctly hear the steady clunk of footsteps through the house. "…Yeah, I do. Who is that?"

"I think there are two of them." He climbed off of his partner, and carefully made his way to the door. Kyle followed his lead and stood up, stepping a few awkward steps forward.

"Shit! They're getting closer." His hand stopped at the door. "Do you think it's my parents?"

Kyle shook his head. "If your parents had come home, we would have heard the car pull up for sure."

Just as the brunette was about to open his mouth again, the doorknob turned, slowly but surely. He stepped back in surprise, his heart pounding and his breath constricted, as the door flung open and slammed into the opposite wall.

Kyle felt like he was going to have a heart attack when he saw Damien, followed closely by a nervous Pip, standing in the doorway.

"Hello, my love," the antichrist said with a grin. Then, nodding to the British boy, "Grab the… _jock_." The blonde reluctantly obeyed and wrapped his arms tightly around the brunette, trying to hold him back. The two struggled with each other as Kyle and Damien continued to talk.

The antichrist took a few steps forward. "You're coming to Hell with me, Kyle." The redhead and his lover both gasped. Pip just glanced at Damien worriedly.

"Jews don't… believe in Hell…!" Kyle managed to gasp out, his fists clenched. Before he could blink, the son of Satan was behind him, his claws raised to the Jew's neck, stroking the flesh playfully. He snickered, and time seemed to slow down as he whispered in his love's ear.

"_We're going to be together forever."_

Time snapped back into place as Stan broke free from the frail boy's grasp and tackled his lover's assailant, sending them both to the floor. Kyle's body jerked to the right, but he didn't have much say in the matter, as his system was shutting down. Damien had dug his nails into the redhead's neck before Stan tackled him, and as he fell, his long nails slit his love's throat.

He grinned up at the mortal boy pinning him, whose eyes were glowing with rage. Stan wrapped his hands tightly around the antichrist's throat and began violently strangling him, his brown eyes filling with tears that he made no effort to stop. "You… motherfucking assfuck! You fucking killed Kyle, you fucking cocksucker!"

Damien kicked the other boy off of him, sending him flying across the room where he landed on his rear. The antichrist stood up and brushed himself off. He stared down at the other boy to see his body quaking, his eyes pulsating with hatred, his muscles tense, every inch of his skin crawling with rage. Damien leaned down closer to the mortal and breathed in the delicious suffering he caused to the target of his jealousy and hissed just two words through his smirk.

"I win."

His victory was interrupted by a swift punch to his jaw. Stan stood again, shaking with anger, hot tears spilling onto his carpet. He gripped Damien's jaw violently, and angrily spat in his eye. "You think this is fucking funny! You fucking killed my god damn boyfriend, you ass-spelunking, pig-fucking, cowshit-eating, son of a whore! You suck – you suck your father's big red balls, dude!"

"Why so put off, Stanley?" the demon child whispered harshly, blinking out the spit in his eye, "We're all murderers here…"

"Shut the fuck up!" Stan screamed. "I'm not a murderer! I'm not, I'm not, I'm not! I _regret _doing that, and I always have!"

"That doesn't change the fact that it happened."

"…" Stan's eye twitched, and then he broke out in another fit of hysterics. "You're _grinning _about killing him! We're different! _Different!_"

"But we both want the same thing."

The mortal boy gave another twitch and furiously punched his enemy again. "Don't you _dare _compare my love for Kyle with your… your _evil!_"

Damien's eyes twinkled. "We both killed, and we both killed for the same reason..."

"I didn't kill someone I _claimed to be in love with!_" Stan spat. "If you really cared about Kyle at all you wouldn't have done this to him!"

Pip stared at Damien worriedly, biting his lip.

The antichrist's eyes flashed dangerously. "I _do _care about Kyle!" he growled defiantly. "He's the only person I've _ever _cared about…"

The British boy's expression fell, his eyes watering a bit. He sniffed sadly, which caught the attention of Damien's sensitive ears.

"Huh?" He turned to see the blonde wiping at his eye. "…What's with Pip?"

Stan turned to see as well, but brushed it off, feeling his anger was more important. "Oh, he's crying. It's probably nothing. Pip's a pussy."

"…Yeah," the antichrist agreed. The two were about to go back to glaring and yelling at each other, when Pip spoke up.

"Y-You lied."

"Huh?" Stan asked, but Damien's eyes widened.

"You s-said you cared about me," Pip continued, a few tears trickling down his cheek.

"Oh, uh, yeah," the antichrist muttered.

"He doesn't care about anyone, Pip," Stan growled. "Nobody but himself. He's the son of the fucking Devil."

"But… _I _care about him," Pip sniffed. "…More than anything else in the world."

The other two just stared at him for a few seconds, and then, he ran over to the demon boy and threw his arms around him.

"I… _l-love _him…." he sobbed.

"Maybe you should have told him that _before _he killed Kyle!" Stan screamed.

"Maybe I should have," Pip agreed. He was starting to calm down a bit. "I'm sorry I was too shy to stop him before… I'm really, truly sorry… Oh dear, this is all my fault…" He let out another huge sob.

"Pip, I…" Damien stuttered. "Get off of me."

The Brit reluctantly climbed off of the antichrist and turned to face Stan. "I thoroughly apologize… if there's anything I can do to make it up to you, I…"

"NO!" Stan roared. "There's nothing! Kyle's in Hell. Nothing can make up for that."

Pip nodded to Damien. "…Can I go in place in of Kyle?" he asked quietly. Stan's jaw dropped. "…I've wanted to live with you for a very long time. And I have nothing else to live for, do I? Everyone on Earth hates me…"

The antichrist glared at him for a few seconds, then sighed. "God damn it. I don't want to, but I have to honor such requests. Fucking rules…"

Both Pip's and Stan's eyes lit up.

"Oh my God… thank you, Pip! I never imagined you would be brave enough to do something like this."

"No no, it's my pleasure," the Brit replied, smiling at Damien.

"Come on," the antichrist muttered, grabbing a delighted Pip's arm and disappearing to Hell in a burst of flames, his voice echoed around the room. "We've got a lot of paperwork to get done."

The one boy left in the room stared harshly down at the scorch mark left on his carpet and folded his arms.

"I still don't forgive you," he huffed.

_End_


End file.
